‘I prayed to God for the money this morning,’ she said, looking wistfully up into Ann’s smiling face, ‘but He couldn’t have heard me, for He never sent it.’
‘He’s going to send it now,’ answered Ann.
‘Will an angel come with it?’ she asked.
‘Ay!’ answered Sam, stooping down and lifting the child in his arms, for he was quite strong again, and she was too thin and puny to be much weight. He did not like to see her bare feet on the snow, and if Ann was going to do them a good turn, why should he not do another?
‘An angel with shining, white clothes on, and wings?’ said little Bell.
‘No; she’s wearing an old bonnet and a faded shawl,’ answered Sam, ‘and her wings aren’t grown yet, I’m glad to say.’
‘For shame, Sam!’ cried his wife; but she was glad to hear from his voice that he was agreeing heartily with her self-denial. It was not far back to their home, but instead of turning into their own pleasant room they all marched up two flights of stairs to the attic.
It was a low room with a shelving roof, and lighted by a skylight, of which two or three of the panes were broken, and a few stray snowflakes were floating in, and hardly melting in the chilly air. There was an old rusty stove instead of a fireplace, but no fire in it; and in one corner lay a hard mattress, on which they could see in the dim light the figure of a man, barely covered with a few clothes. As he lifted up his head to speak to them a racking cough choked him, and it was a minute or two before he could utter a word.
‘We’ve been your neighbours a long while,’ said Ann, gently, ‘and I’m ashamed I never came to see you before. We’ve brought little Bell home, for it’s a dreadful night out of doors, not fit for a grown-up person, scarcely.’
‘But the landlord says he’ll turn us out to-morrow,’ gasped the sick man.